After an instant the look on Charley's face changed to one of intense
indignation. He had a quick temper, and now he turned to the lumber dealer
in anger.

"I guess the sugar profiteers are not the only ones who ought to be in the
penitentiary," he said hotly. "You can keep your old boards. And I hope
they rot for you."

Then he turned on his heel and started toward the gate, followed by Lew.

"Come back here!"

The words rang out sharp and sudden. The voice was commanding and
compelling. Involuntarily the two boys turned back. The lumber dealer
stood before them, his face ablaze with indignation. Under his fiery
glances the boys were speechless. For a moment the man said nothing.
Evidently he was struggling with his temper. When he had gotten control of
himself he spoke. His voice was deep and low, but harsh and cutting.

"Before you make a fool of yourself again, young man," he said, speaking
directly to Charley, "you had better know what you are talking about. You
called me a profiteer for asking $100 a thousand feet for those cedar
boards. Young man, those boards cost me $90 a thousand in the cars at the
station. That leaves me a margin of $10 a thousand for handling them. Out
of that I have to pay to have the boards hauled from the station, pay for
insurance on them, pay their proportionate share of overhead expense, and
pay for hauling them to customers. How much of that $10 do you think is
left for profit? So little it almost requires a microscope to see it. I
have to handle a good many hundred feet of lumber to make as much as the